It's cool to just sit Here and deal with this ****, But hey, its better Where the pudding is thick, Or so they tell me, Along with 'Don't fall for tricks,' They'll always get you If your mind is weak, Like the obliques In my side That've been hurting for weeks, They're so sore from The combination Of boredom And the conflagration Of all the Tinder inside my body That hinders my Lodi-Dodi Outlook On benders That have become Normality, Like you've become A malady, A mother-may-I Comedy That keeps me laughing, Keeps me guessing, Keeps me passing Up on Rafting Down that river, But didn't you know That ocean never comes? So I'll keep drifting And counting my ones, And try to blame The ones on the run Instead of the **** Doing the chasing And erasing my luck, While I deface my face And wait For this bronco To buck Me off Into the muck Of eternal loss. It already happened? You got it, boss.